


Angry Women

by FlowerFly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Character Study, Daddy Issues, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Feminist Themes, Gen, One-Sided Attraction, POV Female Character, Rare Pairings, Self-Esteem, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29673795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlowerFly/pseuds/FlowerFly
Summary: Hope finds her inner strength.
Relationships: Hope Van Dyne/Nebula
Kudos: 1





	Angry Women

Hope Van Dyne loved the feeling after a hard workout. The sweet relaxing combination of strength and exhaustion. She loved the little female-only gym she had found. It wasn't in the areas of New York she normally hang around nowadays, but after being months on the run with her not-so-law-abiding father, she didn't think of it as a terrible, scary area either. 

Her father was fine now, flown away to the Pacific, reunited with her long-lost mother, and with the money that was left from the fall of their once-so-flourished family business. 

Hope was fine now, too. She was free of charges after their little adventure. She had a stable job at Hammer Electronics. She had a house of her own and a great, well, fine enough man, well, okay, a man, to share it with. 

And she loved going to the gym. Workout helped her to push away her feelings. 

She knew she was a total loser. 

Yes, she was doing fairly okay, but c'mon, she was forty-three. With her background, ivy league school, family business and money (which her father had lost), she should have done much better. It would have been okay if she had taken a completely different path. Become an artist or something. Or even a housewife, a mom (she had wanted to, kind of). But no, all her life she had sat neatly aside, where her father had put her (because she was too delicate, too precious) and smiled, waited for her turn to come, her father to see her talent and give her a chance. 

Yes, she was bitter. Yes, she was angry. She was angry at her father and herself. Why hadn't she taken what was hers? Why hadn't she pushed through? Why hadn't she used her elbows and pushed the men her father preferred over her out of the way? 

Because she was a good girl, nice girl, daddy's girl. Stupid girl. Weak girl.

But here and now, she wasn't weak anymore. Here, in a small hall, among other sweating women, who kicked and screamed and got high on their own body and power. Here she wasn't weak. She was whole. 

And she was in love. With the teacher of the class. The dark-skinned twenty-something skinny bald lesbian (Hope didn't know how she knew she was a lesbian, she had never thought things like that before) radiated fierce energy straight into Hope's heart. She had the energy and the skills of a woman who could stand against, fight against, men five times of her size, and win. Hope was mesmerized. 

Her name was Nebula Titan. She taught kickboxing and body combat. Hope attended every class. 

She didn't do anything for her crush. Of course not. That would have been totally outrageous. She was at least fifteen years younger than her. Besides, she had a boyfriend. Or a man she lived with. A man she cooked and cleaned for. A man she had sex with when he had time from his game. Or his work or his friends.

She didn't mind. She thought about Nebula when she went to sleep (alone). 

She felt wonderful after the workout. On her way out she saw an announcement on the wall:  
"NEW! FEMINIST SELF DEFENCE CLASS  
instructors: Diana Prince, Nebula Titan, Natalia Romanova  
sat 10 AM"

She was definitely gonna be there.


End file.
